


What Friends Do

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Friends With Benefits [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin can't stop staring at Regina's ass when she wears one of her tight dresses--which she wears, just to get a reaction out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Do

Robin shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Regina pushes away from the Round Table. Snow and Charming exchange looks and someone else sighs—they’ve reached a stalemate and were all at a point of frustration. No one can quiet agree what their next move should be, only that there should be one. The Wicked Witch attacked a village the night before—her attacks were becoming more frequent and more severe and the point had been to send a message—a message that said she wasn’t going away, a message that said she was determined to win and, as much loath as they were to admit it, she was sending a message that said she actually was winning.    

He watches as she presses her palms against the window sill, her jaw clenching as she leans forward. He closes his eyes a takes a short breath, trying to clear his head and trying in vain to focus as the heat rises into his cheeks. They had important, life-altering decisions to make, and the task at hand was serious. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn’t focus on any of it—especially when she was leaning forward the way that she was, the already-tight blue velvet of her dress hugging every curve, rounding over her ass, and leaving little to the imagination. 

And what made it worse was that he didn’t have to imagine.

There’s a stirring in his pants and he feels them tightening, his eyes lingering longer than they should—and he can hardly believe that he feels jealous of a damn dress. 

She’d worn a similar one the night before—black with a lace overlay—that he’d found himself peeling off of her. She’d stood there before him, slowly pulling down the top and stopping at her waist. She’d arched an eyebrow as he sat up in his bed. It took him only a second to reach her, suddenly craving her as his lips brushed against her neck.

They’d been sleeping together for just more than a month and it was no longer awkward, and it was no longer initiated by uncomfortable questions and vague hints. Slowly but surely, he’d gotten used to the arrangement—the queen was no doubt a beautiful woman and he’d no doubt taken a liking to her, but the idea that they could have regular sexual encounters without any hint of romance had felt strange to him at first. But she’d reminded him—a little chuckle behind her words—that everything would still work even if feelings weren’t involved—and he’d found himself nodding in agreement.

There weren’t really rules they followed—but there was an understanding that when one of them was in need, all they had to do was ask. The other always reserved the right to decline, though neither had yet done that. And either way, there were never any questions asked.      

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she’d told him in a hoarse whisper. “I…I just…”

“Okay,” he’d murmured back, his lips returned to her skin, sucking and licking over her throat and across her jaw, nipping at her earlobe, and letting his hands wander. They slid down her bare back and his fingers pushed beneath the black lace dress. She’d let out a low moan and her head fell back a little as his hands cupped her ass, fingers gently kneaded the soft skin.

He felt a twinge in his pants, finding that they were growing tighter. Slowly, he pushed the dress over her hips, watching as it pooled around her feet. His eyes trailed back up, starting at her feet and working back up to her eyes--eyes that held so much sadness.

“Can I…stay all night?” She’d asked almost shyly as she held his gaze.

“Of course you can,” he’d replied, taking a step backward as he reached for her hand. He wanted to ask what was bothering her and he wanted to ask why tonight she looked so afraid of being alone, what made tonight different from the rest. But he knew her well enough to know not to push, that if she wanted to share something she would. “After all, what are friends for?”

She’d smiled a little as he took her hand, pulling her toward the bed. He’d quickly yanked off his pants, then pulled her into his arms and sat down at the foot of the bed. She’d positioned herself over him, knees on either side of his thighs as hands clasped his shoulders, slowly lowering herself down onto his cock. He’d glanced up and caught a glimpse of them—or, rather, of her—in the mirror and hadn’t been able to look away. Captivated, he’d watched as she rocked her hips back and forth in a circular motion, lifting herself and then sliding back down, pushing herself forward then lifting up again. His hands rubbed over her hips, skimming down to her ass, grabbing and squeezing the soft skin. She let out another moan and he’d tore his eyes away from the mirror to look up at her as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head closer to her body. Quickly, his lips found a nipple, licking and sucking as he continued kneading her ass, completely intoxicated by her touch. 

When he’d awoken that morning, she’d been gone and he felt a flicker of disappointment that she hadn’t stayed.

When he’d gone down to breakfast, she was there—there and wearing a tight blue dress, that somehow managed to show off every perfect curve. He’d swallowed hard as he hovered in the door way, blatantly staring. She’d grinned, noticing the way he looked at her, noticing the way his eyes lingered and noticing where—and slowly, she’d stood up, sashaying her hips as he walked toward the other end of the room, slowly bending to pick something up off of a chair. He’d taken a long breath, watching as the blue fabric tightened around her ass; it was so smooth that it gave the illusion that there was nothing else beneath it, just soft velvet against soft skin. She was driving him crazy, knowingly teasing him as she looked back at him over her shoulder, offering him a quick wink before straightening herself and returned to the table, handing Snow a small gold earring…

“Well, this is going nowhere fast,” Robin says, pushing away from the table, needing to get out of the room before he couldn’t do so without embarrassment. “So, while all of you are going ‘round and ‘round about what we could do to stop the Wicked Witch, I am _actually_ going to go and do something about it.”

Regina turned, her brow furrowing as their eyes met, and then she’d smirked; and, he could feel her eyes on him as he went…

______

Standing in the brush only a few yards away from the river bank, she watches as Robin dips down into the water. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth as she watches him take a few steps inward, to a more shallow section of the river. She watches as droplets of water beaded down his arms and chest as he drew up his arm, pulling up the bar of soap that was attached to a string around his wrist. His biceps curl as he rubs the roughly over his skin, leaving little trails of tiny bubbles on golden skin, and she found finds releasing a shallow little breath in appreciation of the show he was unknowingly providing her.  

There’s a growing wetness between her legs as she watches the soap slide lower, his hand guiding it down his abdomen. A smirk tugs at her lips as she leans forward a bit, craning her neck in an attempt to get a better view, daringly taking a step toward the river bank. Robin dips down into the water, rinsing away the suds and when he stands, the water ripples away from him and she can see his hardening cock, jutting out in front of him—and then he takes a few steps toward the river bank, sliding the bar of soap down his thighs and giving her more to admire—and her smirk tightens…

This has been going on for a few weeks and there’s undeniably an attraction between them—though they both insist to everyone who dares to suggest otherwise that there isn’t. As far everyone knew they were tepidly allies, forced together by circumstance with little in common aside from the overall goal of defeating the Wicked Witch. And while that was certainly how it started, it changed so quickly and they have more in common than anyone would guess. She’s never had this sort of relationship—a friend she could rely on, who didn’t judge her past, who didn’t expect her to magically fix everything with a snap of her fingers, who saw her for who she was and still offered their friendship. She’d never known anyone quite like him either—a man with a code of ethics that bent traditional norm and way about him that made her feel at ease, even when she felt quite the contrary.

When she’d suggested this little arrangement for them, she was worried that it would get messy, as they always did in these sorts of arrangements. She feared that feelings—or rather, the illusion of feelings would set in and he’d want something she just couldn’t give; and, in a worst case scenario, she feared that she would lose him as a friend.

In her entire life, she hadn’t had many friends and certainly, none like him. And she’d been relieved that none of that had happened. He was still the thoughtful and caring friend he’d always been—the friend who was always willing to talk when she needed to talk, the friend who made her laugh and smile even when she didn’t want to, the friend who called her out when she was being unreasonable and didn’t back down, even when she made it difficult; and, he was still the friend who kept her from feeling so alone. He never asked anything of her, never suggested that they should be more, seemingly understanding that she couldn’t be more, understanding that she just couldn’t risk it.

Releasing a shallow breath, she runs her hands down over the skirt of her dress, pressing her thighs together and wishing she’d chosen something else to wear—but she’d chosen it with intention, knowing that it would tease him and drive him crazy, providing her with the distraction she so desperately needed; and, judging by the way he shifted in his seat at the Round Table, it had worked. A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, watching the soap suds sliding down his legs. He’s only knee deep in the river, his cock twitching up a little the soap and his fingers graze it as they travel back up to his hip. She laughs a little as he tries to soap up his back, unable to reach most spots—and then she feels a little pang of guilt for getting him so hot and bothered, and doing nothing about it.

“Looks like you could use some help,” she calls, giggling as she steps out onto the riverbank.

“You’ve done enough to _help_ ,” he replies, gesturing to himself with a long sigh. Her bottom lip catches and her head turns to the side, her eyes lingering longer than they should. “And you’re certainly not going to help from all the way over there, in _that_ dress.”

She offers him a coy smile. “So, it’d be better if I lost the dress?”

“No,” he says too quickly, laughing a little as he runs his hand through his wet hair. “Dress or no dress, you won’t be much help from all the way over there.”

Her smile widens and her bottom lip catches between her teeth as she slips her fingers beneath the soft velvet that surrounds her shoulders. She realizes she doesn’t have to do this and that with just a wave of her hand she could be with him in the water, but she enjoys teasing him—watching the way he his lips purse, the shoulders rise and fall as his breath grows huskier, watching him grow increasingly aroused. Finally, she shimmies out of the dress and joins him in the water, finding that it’s warmer than it looks. Robin takes her hand and leads her in a little deeper.

“Do you…want me to do your back?” She asks, grinning as his eyebrow arches. “That is, after all, what you needed help with, isn’t it?”

“You are such a tease.”

“You like it when I tease you.”

“I do,” he says with a nod and a little smile as he pushes himself further back into the water, pulling her along with him. “But I like it when you do other things, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Like what?” She asks, kicking her feet back and forth, trying to stay afloat and finding it difficult to focus on much else. He’s much taller than her and in past his elbows, which would put her in nearly over her head. But his hand quickly finds her waist, pulling her up against him.

“Well, for starters,” he begins. “I like when you’re closer.”

“This is pretty close…” she murmurs, catching her lip between her teeth. “We’ve been…getting close a lot lately.”

“Indeed we have.”

“You’re okay with that, right? I mean, and nothing’s changed?”

“Nothing’s changed,” he confirms. “And I am more than okay with it.” He laughs a little. “You know, I’d forgotten how nice casual sex could be. It sure as hell beats jerking off underneath a sheet.”

“Casual,” she repeats as a grin tugs onto her lips as his hand rubs gently over her ass. “I like casual.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay last night?”

“Oh…” she murmurs, not wanting to think about that. “I just…didn’t want to confuse things.”

He nods and attempts to make a serious face. “Yes, morning breath and crusty eyes do tend to lead to declarations of love.” He laughs and ducks down, splashing the water a little as he slips his arms underneath her thighs, lifting up a bit. “But you know, perhaps if you’d stayed, I wouldn’t be so worked up now.”  

“I still would have worn the dress,” she murmurs, swallowing hard as she feels him pressing against her.

“I suppose we’ll never know,” he returns, thrusting up just a bit so that the tip of his cocks slips into her. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you wore the dress.”

“Yeah?”

“I was grateful for the view.”

Reaching out, she runs the back of her fingers over his stubbly cheek as her legs wrap around his waist, pushing in a little deeper—but not nearly enough. “Shut up and fuck me.”

A coy grin tugs at his lips—and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

_____

He looks over at her, watching as she runs her fingers through her wet hair. She’s wearing his shirt and he’s wearing his pants and they’re sitting together on the woven drying cloth he brought with him. Her dress is wet and sandy, drying on a branch behind them. Though he’d been fully aware she could have magically cleaned it and changed herself into a new dress, he’d offered her his shirt and she’d accepted it with a lopsided smile—and he assumes she’s only too glad to delay their return to the castle.

Regina is staring out at the river, her eyes distant and her expression blank—and he wonders what she’s thinking about. He’s been wondering that for days, but he hasn’t wanted to pry, hoping that if there was something she wanted to talk about, she would. But she hadn’t.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning over and nudging her arm. “You look like you’re a thousand miles away.”

“Oh, I just…” she shakes her head, bringing herself out of her trance and looking over at him. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Robin nods, “You seem to have had a lot on your mind a lot lately.”

“It’s true,” she snaps as she looks back to the river. “My my long-lost sister and her little army of flying monkeys is wreaking havoc in my name.” She lets out a shallow breath and squares her shoulders. “I have enough blood on my hands, I’d rather not have anymore.” Arching her brow, she looks back at him. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that you shouldn’t be concerned,” he says with a soft sigh. “But I don’t think it’s the witch that’s occupying your thoughts lately.”

“You didn’t tell me you were telepathic…”  He grins and shakes his head as she lets out an audible voice and looks back at the river. “Sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, again bumping against her. “And you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but the other night you were practically in tears.” He takes a breath as she continues to stare out at the water. He knows her well enough to know that she won’t just open up, that she guards a battered heart and bottles up her feelings, turning sadness to rage, loneliness into passion and criticism into barbs. “So, if you say this is about the Wicked Witch, then, it is.”

She offers him a meek smile as she turns back to him, “This isn’t about Zelena. You’re right,” she says with a little nod. “It’s about Henry.”

“I know how you miss him…”

“Yesterday would have been the first day of summer vacation,” she says in a small voice—and though he has no understanding of what that actually means, he can tell that whatever it is, it’s important to her. “Last year, at this time, Henry and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms and I honestly didn’t think it could be any worse than that.”

“I’m sure he missed you,” he tells her gently, “even if he wouldn’t say it.”

“Maybe,” she says with a little nod as she looks back at the water. “But now, he doesn’t even know that I…” She sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” he insists as she looks back at him. “It does matter that he doesn’t remember you.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Maybe not,” he says as grin tugs onto his lips. “But it might help to talk about it.”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs.

And again, he nudges her. “Tell me what you and Henry would have done today—or yesterday—or however long this summer vacation would have lasted.”

At that, she laughs a little and he can’t help but smile—her laugh always has that effect on him—and she shakes her head, but nonetheless concedes as she looks back to the river. “Well, we had this tradition,” she begins. “On the last day of school, we’d order pizza ford dinner and rent a bunch of movies and stay up all night watching them until we fell asleep on the couch.”

She looks back at him and there’s a familiar warmth in her eyes, something that resonates whenever she talks about her son, and it doesn’t matter that it sounds like she’s speaking another language or that he’s only catching what feels like every third or fourth word, he’s glad that she’s opening up a bit rather than keeping it all bottled up inside of her.

“I’d take the next day off of work and we’d sleep in…” Her voice trails off and she chuckles softly before continuing on, “…and then I’d make us breakfast and we’d spend the whole day being lazy because…we could.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” She asks as a slow grin tugs onto her lips. “All of that was just gibberish, wasn’t it?”

“I know that it made you happy and that’s all I really need to know.”

“I was happy…” she murmurs as the grin fades and once more, she looks away, but not before he sees the tears brimming in her eyes. “He was all I had, but he was more than enough.”

Taking a breath, he etches closer to her and stretches his arm around her shoulders. She looks back at him with curious eyes, but she makes no effort to pull away; instead, her head falls to his shoulder and a moment later, he feels her tears on his skin. He pulls her closer, holding her with both arms as she inhales sharp breaths, practically shaking as she releases. It’s odd, he thinks, that this is possibly the most intimate they’ve been, given what they are to one another and given what they’d been doing less than an hour before. But then, again, it’s not all that odd to be with her this way—because, after all, this is what friends do for each other—and no matter what, first and foremost, she is his friend. 


End file.
